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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433840">I'll Take You Down (The Only Road I've Ever Been Down)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kianspo/pseuds/kianspo'>kianspo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, References to past trauma, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Emma and Charles are BFFs, Tony Stark Has A Heart, past abusive relationships, references to past dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kianspo/pseuds/kianspo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Emma are trying to help Charles get over a bad relationship. Many bad relationships, in fact, as Charles has the worst taste in men. They dare him to get 'cured' by sleeping with someone 'normal', having no idea that that normal guy just happens to be someone Charles has been crushing on for a while...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Charles Xavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Secret Mutant Madness 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Take You Down (The Only Road I've Ever Been Down)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/gifts">Gerec</a>.</li>



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec">Gerec</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2020">secret_mutant_madness_2020</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning for sensitive readers. Nothing bad happens in this story, however, there are references to past events, some semi-explicit, a full list can be found in the end notes. Check those first if you know yourself to be triggered easily.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Prompt:</strong><br/><i>Tony bets Charles he can't seduce Steve Rogers, who is too straight and narrow to ever go for a notorious flirt with a reputation for sleeping around and getting drunk at parties. University au or you can make them adults with careers and Tony and Charles are rich playboys a la Stark in Iron Man 1. Bonus if it starts out as a bet but Charles genuinely falls hard for sweet, old-fashioned romantic Steve just in time for Steve to find out about the bet!!!</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>--</p><p>“How long has it been since you’ve actually been outside?”</p><p>Charles looks up, startled, to see Tony leaning against his desk, looking as alien in the quiet sanctuary of the library as a nun in a strip club. He doesn’t even bother lowering his voice, which, of course, means they’re stared at already.</p><p>“Tony,” Charles says flatly. “Hi. Can I help you?”</p><p>“I’m so glad you asked,” Tony drawls mockingly, pulling up a chair opposite with an obnoxious screech. “You can help me by shutting this… antique”—he pokes delicately at Charles's laptop—“down and coming outside with me. There’s a whole world out there, did you know?”</p><p>“No, but I suspect you’re about to tell me more,” Charles replies fatalistically, hurrying to finish the sentence, as Tony has never been one for patience. “Can I bribe you to go away?”</p><p>“With what exactly?”</p><p>“Pepper’s number?”</p><p>Tony straightens up, momentarily brought up short. His eyes narrow. “You don’t have Pepper’s number.”</p><p>“No, but, unlike you, I can get it.” Charles saves his progress quickly, swallowing a sigh of relief. The paper is far from done, but at least he won’t lose his data. “Her friend likes me.”</p><p>Tony stares at him in suspicion, clearly tempted, but eventually shakes his head. “Not this time, hon. Today I’m here on a mission, and that mission is to remind you that there’s life outside this… er… establishment.”</p><p>“I am aware.” Charles says, scrolling through his bookmarks. Maybe just one more reference. “I’m not interested.”</p><p>“I don’t care,” Tony says. “You’ve been buried in here for two weeks. Which means an intervention is in order.”</p><p>Charles freezes, actually looking up. “Tony…”</p><p>“You have ten seconds.”</p><p>“Oh, come on—”</p><p>“Nine. Eight.” Tony gets up and begins skulking around the desk. “Seven. Six.”</p><p>“All right, all right!” Charles hisses, jumping hastily to his feet and slamming his laptop shut. “Just let me put these—”</p><p>“Four. Three. Two. One.”</p><p>“Tony, don’t!”</p><p>Which deters Tony, of course, not at all. Charles barely has time to grab his bag before Tony’s shoulder digs into his stomach, and then he’s hefted unceremoniously into a fireman’s carry, despite his squeaks of protest. It’s no small feat, considering they’re almost of a height, but Tony clearly has been spending a lot more time in the gym lately than Charles and seems to have no difficulty whatsoever.</p><p>“Put me down!” Charles hisses, even though it’s pointless, the entire library is staring at them from the smirking students shooting videos to the frowning librarian. “I am so sorry, Ms. Nedd,” Charles raises his voice slightly as he’s carried past the information desk. “I swear it won’t happen again!”</p><p>“Get the hell out!” she screeches. “And Stark, you’re banned from this library, you mongrel! If I ever find out who let you in—”</p><p>“Aw, Ms. Nedd, I told you before, I don’t kiss and tell,” Tony calls out as he speeds up down the stairs. “My love is pure and cannot be exchanged for monetary value—”</p><p>“Shut up!” Charles smacks him with his laptop bag, rapidly becoming dizzy being upside down and jostled. “Shut up, shut up, oh my God, I have to work here!”</p><p>Tony carries him out as if the building actually is on fire. A couple of students hold the doors open for them with mock solicitousness while others catcall.</p><p>“Put me down or I’m going to be sick!” Charles warns as the afternoon sun hits him square in the face. “Seriously, Tony, I’m not—”</p><p>“Oof.” Tony throws him on the grass like a sack of potatoes, falling to his knees right after.</p><p>A sound of applause and more catcalls come from all around them, but Charles is too busy counting his bruises to flip them off.</p><p>“Was that necessary?” He glares at Tony, once he untangles himself from his laptop.</p><p>“Aw, isn’t he just adorable, all red-faced like that,” Emma coos from where she’s lounging on a blanket a few feet away like a queen.</p><p>Charles rolls his eyes. Of course.</p><p>“You were right,” Tony tells her, sprawling on the grass at her feet. “He’s lost weight.”</p><p>“No, I haven’t,” Charles snaps.</p><p>“Uh, yes, you have.” Emma pokes at a protruding jut of his hipbone, visible because his jeans are riding too low. “Not that you don’t rock it, sugar, but heroin chic is so nineties.”</p><p>Charles glares. Emma and Tony beam at him.</p><p>“Don’t you two have anything better to do?” Charles groans, giving up and rolling to stretch diagonally across Emma’s blanket.</p><p>“We’re taking you to dinner,” Tony informs him. “Then, we’re getting you laid. And then we’re doing it again tomorrow. And the day after, and so on until you snap out of this tedious funk you insist on having.”</p><p>“I’m not in a funk, and I’m not—doing that. I have a paper due, and—”</p><p>“You’ve submitted all your papers ahead of schedule. I checked.”</p><p>Charles lies back and stares up at the sky. “You do know hacking the faculty servers is illegal?”</p><p>“I didn’t even do anything interesting this time.” Tony shrugs. “Only checked that you are being a bit more on edge than usual.”</p><p>“I’m not on edge.”</p><p>“Yes, you are. When I’m on edge, I crash my cars and build robots. When you’re on edge, you stop eating and sleeping and do a shit ton of research you assign to yourself. And when Emma’s on edge—”</p><p>“I don’t get on edge.”</p><p>Both Charles and Tony turn to look at her incredulously.</p><p>“Yes, well, I’m sure planning heists of all the jewelry stores in Manhattan is just a hobby,” Tony says.</p><p>Emma shrugs. “It’s fun. You should try it.”</p><p>Charles sits up. “I’m fine, guys. I’ll go to dinner, but I’m not pulling anyone tonight. I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“You’re in college, Charles.” Tony rolls his eyes at him. “You should always be in the mood. For God’s sake, when was the last time you got laid?”</p><p>Charles scowls. “I don’t see how that—”</p><p>“Three weeks ago, wasn’t it?” Emma says sweetly. “Right before a certain angry German left on a jet plane?”</p><p>Charles stares at her, betrayed, then deflates. “You really, seriously have nothing better to do? I’m <i>fine</i>, Emma. I’m not hung up on Erik.”</p><p>“No, you’re hung up on all the bullshit he brainwashed you with,” Emma says. “About how you’re a rich, privileged asshole who isn’t worth a pinky on his righteous working-class body? How you’re a waste of space and the world would be better off without you? Rings a bell?”</p><p>“Didn’t seem to stop him from fucking said rich privileged asshole ten ways into Sunday,” Tony says scathingly. “Though I suppose he was angry about that, too?”</p><p>Charles bites his tongue, but it’s not like Tony is wrong. He just isn’t aware that—</p><p>“Didn’t help that he probably thought himself straight until he met you,” Emma intones, sliding her fingers through Charles's hair. “Aw, don’t be like that,” she chides when he hangs his head. “You’re so pretty, you’re a perfect straight-bait, sugar, but that’s not your fault.”</p><p>Erik, as it happens, thought that it was very much Charles's fault and wasn’t at all shy to take it out on him.</p><p>“Yes, well, it’s time you snapped out of this bullshit and put those good looks to good use,” Tony says in firm tone, wrapping one hand around Charles's ankle and shaking him a little. “I’m beginning to think you don’t even remember how anymore.”</p><p>“I remember how,” Charles grumbles. “If I prove it to you, will you leave me alone?”</p><p>“Hm.” Tony cocks his head at him. “This should be good.”</p><p>Charles rolls up to his feet and walks away. The glade is filled with students mulling about, enjoying whatever remains of the good weather. Charles summons a smile.</p><p>He comes back some minutes later and lobs a crumpled sheet of paper at Tony’s head before sprawling down next to Emma again.</p><p>“There,” he mumbles. “Happy?”</p><p>Tony unfolds the paper and stares at it. “What kind of name is Boris?”</p><p>“It’s Bulgarian.” Charles grins. “And he has that charming—”</p><p>“No!” Tony and Emma shout at the same time.</p><p>“Not <i>another</i> exchange student, Charles.” Tony glares at him, while Emma rips the slip of paper with a phone number to shreds.</p><p>“Hey now.” Charles sits up. “I’ll have you know that Erik was perfectly—”</p><p>“In fact, your taste in men can’t be trusted at all,” Emma speaks over him. She pokes Tony in the side with her foot. “Remember—what was his name? Sean?”</p><p>“Stoner Sean? The guy who trashed his apartment and then tried to walk out the window?” Tony says. “Yeah, I remember. Hey, remember Victor?”</p><p>“Threw-things-at-his-head Victor? Liked-to-slap-him-around Victor? Didn’t-understand-no-means-no Victor?”</p><p>“A class act, that one. Which reminds me, I need to update his restraining order.”</p><p>“Guys,” Charles pipes up weakly. “Can we please not—”</p><p>“<i>Twelve</i> stitches, Charles. Not to mention the other stuff, and I still remember how they stared at me at the hospital like I was your abusive boyfriend.”</p><p>“It wasn’t that bad—”</p><p>“Oh, oh!” Emma leans forward, suddenly animated. “Remember Richard, lover of impromptu threesomes Richard? Remember how it turned out three meant five, and Charles called us, and you found him naked on the fire escape at three in the morning?”</p><p>“I still have footage.”</p><p>“No, you don’t.” Charles grabs his arm. “You told me you destroyed everything they shot of me that night.”</p><p>“I did—who do you take me for? I’m talking about my own footage of you being all pathetic and half frozen out there.”</p><p>“You have the strangest kinks,” Emma comments.</p><p>Tony rolls his eyes. “I kept it to remind this one”—he pokes Charles in the ribs—“when he gets stupid again.”</p><p>“You can’t really blame him, he wasn’t loved enough as a child,” Emma, the psychology major, informs them. “So now he equates love with drama. The more drama, the more love. Probably something about how he doesn’t deserve good things in there, for good measure.”</p><p>“Hey, hey, no upsetting the kid,” Tony tells her, gathering Charles into his arms. “Look what you did. He’s shutting down.”</p><p>Charles sags against him, suddenly drained indeed. “Just get it over with.”</p><p>Emma’s arms circle his waist, and then the three of them are effectively lying down in a cuddle sandwich. It would have been weird once upon a time, but that time was ancient history.</p><p>“We do this, because we love you,” she purrs in Charles's ear.</p><p>“I was perfectly happy in the library,” he grumbles, even as he moves to accommodate her. “You know, by myself? In peace?”</p><p>“That’s not living, that’s hiding, and we’ve let you stew long enough,” Tony says.</p><p>“I need better friends.” Charles sinks into the grass. “The kind who’d <i>butt out</i> when I ask them.”</p><p>“Yeah, no.” Tony drums his fingers against Charles's ribs vindictively, making him squirm. “Remember how you dragged me out of my lab and stuck me in the shower and stood there with me despite me yelling at you to fuck off? Yeah, we’re doing this.”</p><p>“If you insist on groping him so much maybe you should just date him,” Emma says.</p><p>“No!” Charles and Tony shout at the same time, halfway off the blanket. They look at each other a little sheepishly, lying back down slowly again.</p><p>“That’s a bad idea,” Tony says, not taking his hands away.</p><p>“Very bad,” Charles agrees, relaxing into it.</p><p>“Didn’t I see you two making out at the New Year’s party last year?”</p><p>“Yeah, well.” Tony looks down at Charles who grins at him. “Have you ever kissed him? He’s like…”</p><p>Charles huffs out a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself.”</p><p>“Aw, you two are adorable,” Emma says in her flattest tone as she sits up. “But we’ve digressed. Do you know what he needs?” she asks Tony.</p><p>Tony looks between the two and frowns in concentration. “A project?”</p><p>“My thoughts exactly.” Emma beams. “Someone to focus on who won’t fold like a house of cards when he bats his pretty eyes at them.”</p><p>Tony looks like <i>he’s</i> the one with a new project. “Someone who won’t hit him?”</p><p>“Someone who probably won’t even speak down to him?”</p><p>“Someone who will be—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—a gentleman in the morning?”</p><p>“Great idea, guys,” Charles groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Two things. One: where would you even find that magical bloody unicorn, and two: why would he ever come within ten feet of me?”</p><p>“That.” Emma pokes him in the chest painfully. “That is why we’re doing this. No, Charles, no arguments. You want to be left alone? You do as we say.”</p><p>“Doesn’t exactly seem fair—”</p><p>“Shut up.” Emma puts her hand over his mouth. “So, we find a guy, someone we both agree on. You get him to sleep with you, preferably more than once. When we’re satisfied that you can handle normal, you can go back to being a mole person.”</p><p>“Found him,” Tony says, eyes narrowed at someone at a distance.</p><p>“What?” Charles sits up, pulling Emma’s hand away. “Who?”</p><p>He follows Tony’s gaze and freezes.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Yes,” Tony says almost gleefully. “He’s perfect.”</p><p>“No, Tony, please,” Charles whines. “Not him.”</p><p>“Who are you talking about?” Emma turns her head. “Ah, the illustrious Mr. Rogers. Haven’t seen him in a while. Did he get <i>more</i> muscly? My. Then again, you like them that way, don’t you, sugar?” She ruffles Charles's hair. “Well, Tony, I approve.”</p><p>“I don’t.” Charles pulls back from both of them, heart beating fast. “Come on, how am I supposed to seduce <i>him</i>? He’s… he’s…”</p><p>‘Too good’ doesn’t begin to describe Steve Rogers, who’s sitting, completely unassuming, under a tree, reading a book. He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that is stretched mouth-wateringly across his shoulders, and there’s a strand of hair falling daringly across his forehead. Charles melts a little at the sight.</p><p>It’s possible he has a little crush on Steve. A tiny one. So tiny, in fact, he’s never even thought of doing anything about it, because, of course, Steve will turn him down, and, unlike Victor throwing knives at him, Charles won’t recover from that. He knows he’s way too rotten to be with anyone quite so… wholesome. He doesn’t need to hear it spelled to his face, thanks.</p><p>“Well, you get him to sleep with you or I’ll make it so you’re banned from the library, too,” Tony says matter-of-factly. “I’m a reasonable person, Charles. It’s entirely your choice.”</p><p>“He doesn’t really… sleep with people,” Charles says morosely.</p><p>“Well then, looks like your schedule till the end of the month is pretty full.”</p><p>“What? The end of the month? <i>Tony!</i>”</p><p>“Nah, no, no arguments. A lifelong ban, Charles, I’m not kidding.”</p><p>“Fine.” Charles glares at him. “But if I do get him to sleep with me, you’re asking Pepper out. Publicly. And I want video footage of you being shot down in flames.”</p><p>Tony glares back, but Emma only raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Fine,” Tony spits out at last and grips Charles's hand. “It’s a deal.”</p><p>Emma beams.</p><p>--</p><p>Charles isn’t nervous at all as he waits for Steve the next day outside a lecture hall. Nope, not even a little bit. He’s just jittery and sweating slightly because he’s had too much caffeine this morning that’s all. That, and the fact that he mostly didn’t get any sleep last night, endlessly worrying and coming up with plans that were each more preposterous and hopeless than the other. Nope, no nerves whatsoever here, none.</p><p>The auditorium doors finally open, and students begin to trickle out. Charles straightens up, cursing his height, trying to see over their heads. Fortunately, Steve is easy to spot in any crowd, and Charles melts a little yet again at the combination of a loose knit cardigan and glasses.</p><p>“Steve!” he calls out, ignoring curious looks sent his way as he moves forward.</p><p>Steve looks up from stashing his notebook into his messenger bag and walks over slowly.</p><p>“Uh, hi,” Charles says, beaming at him in a possibly slightly deranged manner. “Sorry to snatch you up like that, I know we never really talked, and you might not remember me, but um, we have ancient history together, I’m—”</p><p>“Hello, Charles,” Steve interrupts, a hesitant smile on his lips.</p><p>“Oh,” Charles breathes out, flushed. “You know me.”</p><p>Steve’s smile morphs into a tentative grin. “You’re a hard person to miss.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Charles?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Was there something you wanted?”</p><p>“Oh. Oh, yes! Sorry. Too much caffeine, it’s making me er… never mind. Listen, I wanted to ask if you still have notes from Allen’s lecture on Egypt? I seem to have misplaced mine, and I’m stuck with my paper, and you know it’s due on Monday, um.”</p><p>“Your paper?” Steve is looking at him with a tiny frown, as if questioning Charles's wellbeing and possibly sanity. “Haven’t you already submitted your paper on that unit? You got a 98 on it?”</p><p>Charles blinks, thrown for a moment. “How do you know?”</p><p>Steve’s eyebrows rise. “Because Professor Allen showed it in class last week and ranted about it for fifteen minutes?”</p><p>“He what?” Charles stares at him. “Where was I?”</p><p>Steve’s lips twitch. “Not there, since I remember him starting his rant with ‘I’m deducting two points since Mr. Xavier doesn’t see fit to grace us with his presence today.’”</p><p>“That pompous old fart!” Charles fumes. Steve is laughing at him now, clearly, which is at least partial success. “He still believes the pyramids are bloody tombs. I can’t believe that man even holds a doctorate, let alone—” He catches himself. “Sorry, um. I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>“Quite all right.” Steve smiles. “I happen to agree with you, but I’m afraid we’re stuck with him. So do you still want my notes?”</p><p>“Uh, no.” Charles smiles sheepishly. “As it appears, I’ve already written the paper and forgotten about it…”</p><p>He had that neat little plan about borrowing Steve’s notes and then asking him out for coffee as thanks, and then feeling his way from there, which was now completely ruined. He didn’t account for the fact that Steve might know about his paper.</p><p>“Lucky you,” Steve sighs. “Well, I actually do still need to write it, so I’d better go.”</p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>This is supposed to be a seduction, dammit, not this idiotic fumbling about. He sidles closer to Steve, looks up at him from under his lashes.</p><p>“I could help you study?”</p><p>Steve blinks at his sudden proximity, then frowns slightly. “Like a study group? Thanks, but I already have something going with the guys… I’d invite you to join, but it doesn’t look like you need it.”</p><p>“Right.” Charles feels his shoulders sag. “Of course. I won’t keep you then.”</p><p>He steps back, but to his surprise, Steve follows, the concerned expression on his face intensifying. “Are you all right? You look a little… manic.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Charles forces a laugh out and shakes his head, knowing he’s blushing in a way that is not at all attractive. “Really, just um… Too little sleep.”</p><p>“Ah,” Steve says, and something in his face closes. “Of course. Well, I’d better go.”</p><p>“Yeah, uh, me too. Sorry to bother you.”</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>Charles watches him go, feeling like he has never been more defeated in his life. Someone sidles up to him, and he sighs as he recognizes the perfume.</p><p>“What could you possibly want, Emma?”</p><p>She smiles. “Oh, just wondering how operation ‘Seduce Goody-Two-Shoes’ is going. Do you know, I think he likes you already.”</p><p>“He doesn’t,” Charles sighs again, adjusting the strap of his bag as he heads out.</p><p>Emma, naturally follows.</p><p>“Of course,” she muses, “he also called you a slut that one time.”</p><p>Charles grits his teeth. “No, he didn’t. Honestly, can you imagine <i>Steve Rogers</i> calling anyone a slut?”</p><p>“Well, he did use the words ‘slut-shaming’ though he did nearly trip over them. And as the guys he told off were actually hackling <i>you</i> at the time, I’m pretty sure that makes you the slut in that scenario.”</p><p>Charles glares at her. “Thanks so much, Emma.”</p><p>“Oh, stop being so dramatic; there’s nothing wrong with being sex-positive on a college campus. He defended you, didn’t he? He likes you.”</p><p>“He doesn’t. He would have defended anyone, that’s who he is.”</p><p>
  <i>And that’s why he’s way, way too good for me.</i>
</p><p>“Yes, but ‘anyone’ includes you, so really Charles, stop moping, man up, and go get him already.”</p><p>Charles scowls at her. “Go away.”</p><p>“Now, where’s the fun in that?” She smirks, but stays still as he stomps off.</p><p>His friends are honestly the worst.</p><p>--</p><p>Emma was right about one thing, though. Charles needs to get a grip. He isn’t trying to get Steve to date him for real. That’s never going to happen, not in a million years, no matter how big a crush Charles is nursing. He doesn’t have a chance, so he might as well get it over with. Sleep with Steve, cement his view of Charles as a person who would sleep with anyone or anything, really, provided they stand still long enough, and be done.</p><p>Relationships—and Emma is right again—are not his forte. Sex? Easy as breathing. The first time Charles realized he could get someone to sleep with him on the spot if he so wanted, he was fourteen. Raven’s tutor, and yes, Charles was aware that that was an extreme way to prove that the man was worthless, but he didn’t let that stop him. Kurt had paid attention to him for a whole half an hour that night. Granted, it was to lecture him, but it was still more than he’d gotten from the man in two years since Sharon married him and disappeared into the bottle.</p><p>Charles is good at sex. Even better at seduction. But every talent has a weak spot, and this one is no exception. The same rule that states that you can’t successfully lie to an honest man is at work here, as Charles had discovered numerous times in the past. You can’t seduce someone who isn’t corruptible to begin with. And while most people miss that category by a mile, Steve Rogers is someone who’s built a house in the middle of it.</p><p>It sounds hopeless, and it soon proves to be exactly that.</p><p>Charles makes certain to sit within Steve’s direct line of sight during the next lecture and, with an absent-minded air, fellates his pen like he’s auditioning for a porno. His mouth gets wet and sloppy, people around him are squirming in their seats entirely too much, he’s pretty sure that a pimply guy three rows down comes in his pants, and even Professor Allen, a married man and a grandfather by now, loses his train of thought four times as he catches sight of Charles, going red in the face every time.</p><p>Steve spends the entire time completely focused on the lecture, and a few times on his phone. After the class lets out, Charles lingers accidentally-on-purpose so that they would leave at the same time. His plan is thwarted, however, when a guy whose name Charles neither knows nor cares about blocks his way.</p><p>“What do you say we go to the men’s right now, hm, Xavier?” he asks, panting slightly, eyes glued to Charles's mouth, one hand on his obviously bulging crotch. “Damn, your mouth, I—”</p><p>Charles takes an involuntary step back, disgusted. “Um, charming, but no. Please, let me pass.”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” the guy wheedles, leaning further into Charles's space. “Everyone says you’re easy.”</p><p>Charles blushes, because yes, everyone does say that, and yes, maybe it’s entirely deserved, but it still feels humiliating when it’s thrown in his face like that, which is odd, and Emma would have had a field day, but he’s not Emma, and—</p><p>“He said no,” a clear voice cuts in from behind him. “Now, move or you will be moved.”</p><p>Charles closes his eyes. Great. Just great, because that’s exactly what he <i>didn’t</i> want Steve to hear. Karma is a bitch, and that’s what nefarious scheming gets him.</p><p>The guy in front of him looks over Charles's shoulder, pales, and all but runs out, hobbling. The onlookers scatter, whispering and firing messages on their phones. Charles pinches the bridge of his nose. Fantastic.</p><p>“Hey, you okay?”</p><p>When he opens his eyes, Steve is standing level with him, looking at him with concern. His eyes don’t flicker to Charles's mouth, not even for a second.</p><p>“I’m fine.” Charles gives him a wan smile. “Sorry, I’m holding you up, um…”</p><p>“I can walk you to your next class,” Steve offers, looking gravely serious.</p><p>Charles is floored. “Um… thanks, but I—”</p><p>“Come on.” Steve puts a hand on his shoulder gently to turn him. “I have time.”</p><p>Outside, it’s drizzling. Charles doesn’t have an umbrella, but Steve does. He holds it over both of them as they walk in silence toward the science building.</p><p>It’s a prime opportunity to work his magic, but Charles feels too ashamed of himself. He doesn’t understand it, but can’t make himself play any more games just now in the face of Steve’s old-fashioned chivalry. He’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t even like him.</p><p>“Thanks,” he says as they stop a few feet apart from the main entrance. “You didn’t have to.”</p><p>Steve is watching him, grey eyes unnervingly serious. “You shouldn’t be subjected to that,” he says at last. “No matter your reputation.”</p><p>Charles winces. “They’re right, you know,” he says in a helpless fit of bitter honesty. “I <i>am</i> easy. Every name they call me I deserve.”</p><p>Steve is still looking at him, only now he frowns. “You can be whatever you want to be, as long as you’re of age and it’s all consensual. There’s no justification for name-calling or harassing someone.”</p><p>Charles blinks, then smiles at him uncertainly. “It doesn’t matter how short my skirt is?”</p><p>Steve glances briefly down at his jean-clad knees and gives Charles a shy smile. “Exactly.”</p><p>Charles shakes his head, smiling helplessly now. “You’re something else, Steve Rogers. You’re entirely something else.”</p><p>Seized by a sudden impulse, he steps closer to Steve, stretches up on his toes, and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. That finally gets a reaction, as Steve blushes and looks down at him with wide eyes, though he doesn’t jerk away.</p><p>Charles steps away, smiling. “Thanks for… Well, thanks.”</p><p>He hurries inside, heart in his throat, all the while feeling Steve’s gaze between his shoulder blades.</p><p>--</p><p>It feels incredibly underhanded to keep on with the ruse after that, but Charles perseveres. The sooner it gets done, the sooner Steve can go on his untarnished, decent way, and Charles can lick his wounds and go back to being Belle, who lives in the library and sleeps with the entire castle. It’ll be better for everyone. Charles can, at least, make sure Steve enjoys himself more than he has ever enjoyed himself with anyone in bed. That’s the only thing Charles can conceivably give him, and he will do his utmost.</p><p>He memorizes Steve’s schedule, and that’s the easy part. The guy is meticulous and disciplined like a Swiss watch, no deviations or distractions, barring natural catastrophes, ever. For the next few days, Charles makes sure to pop up in Steve’s way as much as possible, even though he doesn’t try to engage. Steve invariably smiles at him and waves back. Charles takes it as a good sign. Now that Steve has—hopefully—become acclimated to Charles's presence in his day, it’s time to up the ante. </p><p>Charles had figured out a long time ago that the most rigidly disciplined people usually break quite easily under the most direct approach—namely, an appeal to the reptilian brain.</p><p>That’s why he braves the student canteen which he normally avoids like the plague during lunch hour. He loads up his tray, chooses a trajectory where Steve is bound to notice him, and then adopts the air of being too deep in thought to notice people. He gets jostled, loses his balance, trips, and falls precisely onto Steve’s lap. Steve’s reflexes, Charles is pleased to confirm, are excellent.</p><p>“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Charles blurts out, blinking rapidly, as Steve stabilizes him with his hands on Charles's waist. “Steve! Oh, dammit, I’m so—did I splash you? Sorry, I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going.”</p><p>He wriggles in place, ostensibly to regain his balance. Steve is nothing but a wall of support and only smiles at Charles.</p><p>“You looked like you were far away somewhere,” he says mildly.</p><p>“Yeah, I… uh, planning a lab experiment. Thanks,” he adds as Steve helps him to his feet.</p><p>“Don’t mention it.”</p><p>And, as there’s no room at the table for Charles to join him, that’s that. He retreats, feeling more than a little discombobulated.</p><p>All right then. Time for bigger guns.</p><p>To say that the student gym is subpar compared to Tony’s private facility is to say nothing, so Charles has only been here twice—after the rugby’s team victory last year at the invitation of its captain, and for some lessons in tantric massage from the resident yoga instructor. Both times he never really set foot too far beyond the sauna.</p><p>Steve, it turns out, comes in to work out so early in the morning that most people would still consider it nighttime. Normally, Charles would hate the very idea of being out of bed at such an ungodly hour, but for his plan to work that’s actually ideal.</p><p>He gets to the gym twenty minutes before Steve, strips, showers, cursing the lukewarm water, and then hurriedly returns to the completely deserted locker room. He has his locker open and his bag at his feet, as if he was getting dressed after a workout, and waits. From the window, he watches Steve enter the gym and then waits quietly for the sound of footsteps to approach the door. When they become loud enough to be heard without straining, Charles jerks into action.</p><p>He starts humming something upbeat, like he can’t get a song out of his head after a workout, even though he never listens to music when he does go running. No matter. He hums, projecting the aura of a person who’s convinced he’s alone. He hears the locker room door open, but pretends he doesn’t, and stretches upward to reach the upper shelf of his locker.</p><p>The footsteps stop. Still humming, Charles strains on tiptoes, as if trying to reach something, cants his hips just so, and the towel unwinds from his waist as if by magic to pool artistically around his ankles. Charles curses under his breath and laughs a little, as if amused by his own clumsiness. Then, he bends over to pick it up slowly, as if unwilling to further strain sore muscles.</p><p>He expects to hear a throat being cleared, or a gasp, or footsteps, depending on how quickly Steve’s instincts take over. What he hears instead is the sound of the door being open and closed again and someone walking quickly away down the corridor.</p><p>Charles straightens up and stares.</p><p>“Huh.”</p><p>--</p><p>“He just <i>left</i>?” Emma all but squeals, lounging on Tony’s luxurious couch, a glass of red wine in her hand tipping precariously.</p><p>“Yeah,” Charles sighs, catching a can of ginger ale Tony lobs at him. His coordination doesn’t fail him, which is a small consolation.</p><p>“Huh,” Emma says, unconsciously echoing him. “Maybe he’s not gay after all.”</p><p>“Neither was that German asshole,” Tony reminds her, sprawling on his plush rug, beer in hand. “For that matter, neither am I, but I’d still tap that.” He tips his bottle at Charles.</p><p>“Cheers,” Charles says morosely. “Look, I’m not saying that I’m irresistible, but usually I’d get <i>some</i> sort of reaction.”</p><p>“Well, in a manner of speaking, you did,” Emma points out. “If it was no big deal, what was the problem with him coming in and saying ‘Hey, Charles, put your pants on’?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Tony drawls. “Unless he’s such a humongous prude brought up by nuns or something that suddenly running into someone naked makes him too embarrassed to live?”</p><p>“He wasn’t brought up by nuns; he’s from Brooklyn,” Charles says, leaning back in the recliner tiredly. “As for the rest of it, I have no bloody clue.”</p><p>“You sound about ready to throw in the towel,” Tony notes. When Charles glares at him, he laughs, lifting his hands. “Hey, that was unintentional. My point is, you still have a couple of weeks left. There’s still time to try something.”</p><p>“At this rate, the only thing I haven’t tried is finding out where he lives and sneaking into his bed like a total creep,” Charles says. “And no, Tony, don’t even start, I’m <i>not</i> doing that.”</p><p>“Actually, there is one other thing,” Emma says. When both Charles and Tony look at her, she shrugs. “Well, technically, you haven’t asked him out yet.”</p><p>Charles blinks then stares at her. “So… you want me to go and hang myself publicly and bring my own rope? What exactly have I done to you lately?”</p><p>“Again with the drama.” Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying. The two of you are so used to your super complex science problems and solutions, you might be overlooking the simplest one. Ask him to dinner, tell him how much you admire him, compliment him... Wear that purple shirt I gave you, the dark one. Invite him over for a nightcap, then jump him. Honestly, must I script it all?”</p><p>Charles and Tony exchange a look.</p><p>“I’m going to die,” Charles groans.</p><p>Tony lifts up his bottle. “Cheers.”</p><p>--</p><p>For a shocker, Charles doesn’t actually have a lot of experience asking people out. Getting them to sleep with him—yes. Asking them out for, say, coffee, that will have to actually be coffee—not so much. Still, he’s familiar with the theory, and Tony likes watching romcoms when he’s feeling particularly aggravated, so emulating a normal, not that badly fucked up person can’t be that hard… can it?</p><p>Well, it’s pretty nerve-wracking at least, he discovers as he waits for Steve to come out of his study group session. When Charles finally spots him, his heartrate spikes, and he has to remind himself that this isn’t going to be the end of the world no matter how it goes.</p><p>“Hi, Charles.” Steve smiles at him, as Charles ‘runs into’ him on the library steps. “Heading in?”</p><p>“Yes.” Charles smiles back. “I’m hoping they have the latest article I need for my chem paper. Not available online.” He makes a face. “You?”</p><p>“Oh, just heading out. Well, I’d better—”</p><p>“Would you like to go out to dinner with me later?” Charles asks quickly before he loses his nerve. “Unless you already have plans, of course?”</p><p>Steve comes up short and looks at him carefully. “You mean like a date?”</p><p>He’s giving Charles absolutely nothing in terms of a reaction. Charles smiles tentatively.</p><p>“Yes? I uh… I really like you, and I thought—it could be fun?”</p><p>“Oh.” Steve looks surprised for a moment.</p><p>Charles can barely take the suspense, but then something shifts in Steve’s face, and he knows. He tries not to let his face fall.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Charles,” Steve says quietly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”</p><p>“Oh. Uh, all right.”</p><p>“You’re great,” Steve hastens to add, looking more earnest and apologetic by the second. “You’re really… you… I just think—I think we’d want different things from this. And I don’t believe it’d work out.”</p><p>“No, no, Steve, it’s all right.” Charles shakes his head, giving him a reassuring smile, hoping it doesn’t tremble too much at the edges. “You don’t have to explain; it’s okay.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, trust me. It’s fine. Well, I’d better, uh, go hunt down that article then. See you!”</p><p>“Bye,” Steve’s uncertain reply follows him up the steps.</p><p>Charles finds the darkest, most deserted section on the second floor, sits down behind the bookshelves, covers his face with his hands, and laughs. There is little mirth in it, and he tries to keep it down. It’s the kind of laughter that’s only laughter because it’s not tears.</p><p>
  <i>‘We’d want different things…’</i>
</p><p>By which he meant, of course, being too polite to say so, that Charles is a slut, and, while Steve doesn’t judge him, it doesn’t mean he’d want to be anywhere near him. It’s not surprising. It’s exactly what Charles has been thinking this entire time. It’s only Steve’s politeness, his all-accepting attitude that made Charles believe for a hot second that anything was possible.</p><p>Good God. He’s turned into <i>that guy</i>. The one who believes that if a woman is polite to him, she must want him. Jesus. Charles has very few illusions about himself, but how exactly did something like this pass him by? That’s far more disgusting than his usual level of disgusting. Oh, dear God.</p><p>He’s done, he thinks later, as he deems it safe enough to go home without running into Steve. He’s done. With the dare, with all of it. Let Tony wreak havoc, let him and Emma do whatever they want. Let them take over his social calendar, drag him to parties where he’d sleep with random strangers he’ll never see again. What was he thinking believing for even a moment that he deserved better?</p><p>“You can’t be done,” Emma tells him when he calls her later that night. “There’s a whole week left, Charles…”</p><p>“I don’t care,” Charles says. “It was a stupid idea. You guys had your fun, it was good while it lasted, but I—I can’t do this anymore, okay? I just can’t.”</p><p>Emma is silent for a beat, then says quietly: “You really like him huh?”</p><p>“Emma—”</p><p>“No. You liked him before we even started this, didn’t you? Charles. Why on earth did you never <i>say anything</i>? I’d have vetoed him, if I had known. I never meant for this to hurt you, babe.”</p><p>“No, Emma, no. I know. I’m fine.” He makes a face at himself. “Really. I just need to—sleep it off and forget it ever happened. And if you could do me this huge favor and keep Tony busy for a while so that he doesn’t barge in here, I’d be eternally grateful.”</p><p>“Charles—”</p><p>“I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye.”</p><p>At least, it’s Friday, which means he’s got a whole weekend ahead of him before he has to show up in class and see Steve again. Two days should give him ample time to wallow.</p><p>Charles goes to bed that night with a headache and a distinct feeling that he will spend the rest of his life alone, and he wonders how a stupid bloody <i>dare</i> has led to this.</p><p>--</p><p>He calls Raven on Saturday and basks for a few minutes in her excitement about some school party, then spends the rest of the day camped in front of the TV, watching <i>Torchwood</i> reruns. It does little to make him shake off his morose mood, but it’s a comforting routine all the same. His phone shows no missed calls from Tony, which means that Emma is feeling guilty enough to occupy him, for which Charles is too grateful for words. He loves Tony. He just doesn’t really want to see <i>anyone</i> right now.</p><p>By evening, his body begins to protest the lack of activity, and Charles decides to go for a run. He runs whenever he’s feeling anxious, unsettled, or like everything is too much, which means he runs a lot, though not on anything resembling a regular schedule.</p><p>Once outside, his feet take him on a circuitous path around campus before he knows it, but when he notices, he only shrugs. He can’t avoid the place forever, and the sooner he gets over himself the better.</p><p>He’s winding down by the time he passes a particularly busy area, where people have spilled out from a nearby bar. Some sort of party seems to be going on inside, and Charles wrinkles his nose. He loved the scene his first year in college, but it got repetitive quick. He temporarily increases his tempo to get away faster, when a lone figure swaying on the curb draws his attention.</p><p>Charles stops dead. There are plenty of attractive people in college, but that incredible shoulder-to-waist ratio is still pretty extraordinary and—memorable.</p><p>“Steve?” Charles calls out in disbelief.</p><p>The man turns, somewhat less than stable.</p><p>“Charles!” Steve beams at him in a way Charles has never seen him do before. “Hi! Er… nice uh… nice night, right?”</p><p>Smiling involuntarily, Charles jogs over. “I guess. Are you okay?”</p><p>“Great!” Steve swings his arms as if to indicate his state and sways precariously.</p><p>“Woah.” Charles grabs his arm to stabilize him, which of course only leads to them stumbling together. “Uh, Steve? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of wasted.”</p><p>“Huh?” Steve blinks at him. Charles struggles not to find that adorable.</p><p>“You’re drunk,” he says with a grin. “I can’t believe it. You’re actually, <i>incredibly</i> drunk.”</p><p>“Hm.” Steve narrows his eyes in the direction of the bar. “Roommate’s birthday. He said, tradition. There was…” He frowns, concentrating. “Beer. Then shots? There were shots. Then beer again.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Charles half-laughs, half-moans. “You’re going to have a terrible morning.”</p><p>Steve’s gaze lands on him again, and the frown of concentration evaporates in favor of a blinding smile.</p><p>“Charles! It’s so good to see you!”</p><p>“Oh my God,” Charles laughs. “What do you say we get you home, huh?”</p><p>“Can’t.” Steve shakes his head, lips pursed. “Roommate said. Er. Girlfriend. Not supposed to… um…”</p><p>He chooses that moment to sway precariously again, almost swinging onto the road before Charles catches him and tugs him back upright with difficulty.</p><p>“Genius, your roommate, clearly,” he grunts with effort. “All right, then you’re coming home with me, I’m not leaving you here.”</p><p>Steve continues to smile at him in a really unnerving way.</p><p>Charles sighs. “Hold on, I’ll call an Uber.”</p><p>The cab arrives within a minute, but the driver takes one look at Steve and says: “No.”</p><p>“Yes,” Charles says firmly, opening the door and refusing to budge. “I’ll give you a hundred extra.”</p><p>“And if he pukes?”</p><p>“Two. Come on, Steve, work with me here.”</p><p>Charles never really had time or reason to contemplate what Steve would be like drunk, but now that it’s no longer a hypothetical he thinks he’s not surprised. Drunk Steve is, apparently, friendly and affectionate and seems to find most things amusing, but he’s still more polite than most people are sober—to the point where even their grumpy driver is giving him incredulous looks in the mirror.</p><p>It’s completely adorable, and Charles would appreciate it more if he didn’t have to constantly exert himself trying to keep Steve upright. He’s incredibly lucky, he knows, that Steve is mobile. There’s no way Charles could have carried him anywhere.</p><p>The ride is ludicrously short, and getting Steve out of the cab takes about as much time as the entire trip. The doorman steps out to hold the door as Charles is struggling to direct Steve’s uncoordinated movements.</p><p>“Do you need help, Mr. Xavier?”</p><p>“Oh, um, good evening, Benny.” Charles plasters on a smile even as he pants under Steve’s uncooperative weight. “Yes, that would be… I’m sorry about this. I’m afraid my friend has had a bit too much to drink.”</p><p>“At least he’s not singing like Mr. Stark usually does,” Benny says good-naturedly while taking Steve’s other side.</p><p>Charles snorts as they navigate Steve through the door. Depending on his mood, Tony can be a variety of personalities while drunk, most of them a nuisance.</p><p>Together, they maneuver Steve into the elevator where he becomes gleefully fascinated with the art deco design and suddenly begins to explain why he likes the style so much, while constantly trying to grab Charles's hand to make a point. Benny is unsuccessfully trying to smother a smile, while Charles wishes really badly he could have this on video. Alas, he’d need to grow a third arm for that.</p><p>Stumbling, with Steve still in full on cultural-anthropologist mode, they make their way down the corridor and into Charles's apartment. By the time they reach his bedroom, Charles's back is twinging in protest and he’s pretty sure it’s his body’s revenge for never going to the gym to actually work out. Steve goes down onto the bed with an oomph that makes both Charles and Benny wince, but the lecture doesn’t seem to stop, only becomes more slurry.</p><p>“Thank you <i>so much</i>,” Charles says with feeling, slipping the doorman a generous tip. “I am <i>so sorry</i> about this.”</p><p>“No trouble at all, Mr. Xavier.” Benny gives him a kind smile, which comes more from the fact that they have known each other since Charles was five than anything else. “If you need anything, call me downstairs. Good night.”</p><p>“Good night. Thank you!”</p><p>Charles sees him out then goes into the kitchen, fills the biggest glass he can find with water, and comes back into the bedroom, where Steve has progressed to humming some sort of tune. Charles bites his lip against a smile.</p><p>“Steve,” he calls, sitting down on the bed next to him carefully. “Love, sit up for a second. Come on, Steve, help me out here.”</p><p>Apparently, he stumbled upon the magic word, because Steve’s head snaps to look at him, eyes almost coherent. “Help? You need…”</p><p>“Yes.” Charles nods eagerly, telling himself firmly that he’s <i>not</i> swooning. “I really need your help here. Can you—woah.”</p><p>Because Steve is already sitting up, overcharging a little, but eyeing Charles with persistent concern. “What… Charles, what’s wrong? Where…”</p><p>“Nothing,” Charles says quickly, lifting the glass to Steve’s lips. “I just need you to drink this, okay? It will <i>really</i> help me,” he emphasizes when Steve just blinks at him.</p><p>Steve takes the glass from him and downs it, all the while staring at Charles as if expecting him to spontaneously combust.</p><p>“Great, you did so well,” Charles tells him, taking the empty glass away. “Now, you need to lie down and sleep, okay? Can you do that for me?”</p><p>Steve is still watching him with eyes that are suddenly all too serious. “I would do anything for you,” he informs Charles gravely.</p><p>“That’s…” Charles blinks, his heartrate spiking. “That’s uh… very kind of you. I need you to lie down, okay? Sleep this off.” He puts his hand on Steve’s chest and pushes gently. </p><p>For a moment, it feels like pushing against a wall, but then Steve looks down, studies the hand, then traces the arm it’s attached to back to Charles, and suddenly goes down like a slightly tipped domino chip. Charles winces in sympathy as Steve bounces on the bed, his own stomach lurching. Steve turns a little green, but then relaxes, his eyes sliding closed.</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” Charles mutters, pulling back.</p><p>He goes to refill the glass and sets it on the nightstand. Then, as a thought occurs, he stops by the laundry room, digs out a basin, and puts it on the floor next to the head of the bed. He stands for a few moments, listening to the sound of Steve’s breathing. Is it too labored?</p><p>Charles tugs Steve’s shoes off, then his belt. Then, he gets on the bed behind him and, putting his back into it, rolls Steve onto his side. Steve mumbles something, then goes quiet, and his breathing evens out. Charles feels drained, but he can’t help a grin.</p><p>He goes to sleep on the comfy couch in the living room, too spent to risk falling asleep in the shower, and thinks about how fate has a really twisted sense of humor.</p><p>--</p><p>Charles wakes up early. His body is sore, but his mind is remarkably clear for the hour. He tiptoes to his bedroom to get a change of clothes and check on his guest. Steve is slumbering peacefully, snoring lightly as he’s sprawled on his back. His body has obviously metabolized the alcohol just fine.</p><p>Charles watches him for a few moments. If he was the kind of person who didn’t care one way or the other about his word, he could have snapped a few pictures now and sent them to Tony as proof of his victory. But Charles dismisses the idea as he trudges on into the shower. This has never been about winning a stupid bet, and besides, the three of them couldn’t lie to each other even if they wanted to.</p><p>He remembers as he stands under the spray, being fifteen and sitting in the doctor’s office while Emma clutched his hand to tightly she’d left bruises, scared out of her wits that she was pregnant. Remembers pretending to be his own lawyer’s aide to bail Tony out of jail roughly once every six weeks when he was seventeen. Tony was nineteen at the time. It was a bad year. Remembers Emma slapping him senseless when she’d found him going through Sharon’s medical cabinet right after the service, as Tony dragged a screaming Raven away.</p><p>He remembers parties, bad breakups. Good breakups, which were somehow worse than the bad ones. Remembers Tony lashing out at him when Charles pressed him about his black eye being his father’s doing. Remembers Tony being blackout-drunk after his parents crashed, Emma’s face, tear-streaked and terrified, her whispered ‘Charles, I think he might do something.’ Remembers Emma’s father telling her about her brother’s death, and Emma shedding not a tear then.</p><p>People call them rich, spoiled, and completely fucked up. Charles thinks that, in all honesty, they should be a lot more fucked up than they are. Probably would have been, if they hadn’t had each other.</p><p>He’s not going to lie to Tony. It’s a game, and yes, their games are completely fucked up, but they all know when to stop. At least, they always have so far. True, Emma loves <i>‘Dangerous Liaisons’</i>, maybe a tad too much, but this is real life, and Charles is not Valmont. He enjoys sex, not fucking with someone’s head. And no amount of peer pressure can make him.</p><p>Refreshed and completely awake now, he heads into the kitchen and, for a change, goes about making actual breakfast. He can’t really cook, had no incentive to learn, but eggs and toast he can do, he’s had plenty of practice with Raven. The less said about him trying to make her pancakes once the better.</p><p>He’s just about finished, humming along with the radio, when Steve walks in, looking sleep-rumpled and visibly embarrassed.</p><p>“Morning.” Charles smiles at him, pouring himself some coffee. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Like death warmed over,” Steve admits, looking around with a freaked-out expression. “Charles, I’m so sorry you had to—”</p><p>Charles lifts up a hand. “Oh, we’re not doing that. We’re doing breakfast. Sit.”</p><p>Steve hesitates, but eventually sits down.</p><p>“Coffee?”</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, watching him.</p><p>Charles pours him a cup. “Think you can handle food? You need something greasy to settle the stomach.”</p><p>Steve makes a face, but nods. “I think I’d better. Thank you.”</p><p>“Stop thanking me, honestly.” Charles rolls his eyes, shoveling eggs onto a plate. “It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“I disagree,” Steve says, but catches Charles's look and stops arguing.</p><p>“So,” Charles says after a while, watching Steve make his way methodically through his breakfast. “Your roommate’s birthday, huh? Big party?”</p><p>“I think it was an excuse to get drunk more than anything,” Steve replies, cringing. “He’s an all right guy, John. But he likes his parties.”</p><p>“Didn’t seem like your kind of scene,” Charles notes, sipping his coffee.</p><p>“Not really, no.” Steve grins, wolfing down toast. Charles privately marvels at his appetite. “But it was his birthday. I didn’t want to offend.” He frowns. “I’ve never really gotten this drunk before. I mean, back home, me and the guys, we went out, of course. Someone’s older brother or cousin would buy us beer. You know, rebelling and stuff.”</p><p>Charles hides his smile in his cup.</p><p>“But it never felt that way. I’ve never drunk so much that I couldn’t control what I was doing.”</p><p>“Yes, well.” Charles sets the cup down. “Mixing beer and hard liquor would do that to you. I’m surprised your head isn’t splitting in two.”</p><p>Steve grimaces. “It aches a lot, yeah, but it’s getting better.” He looks at Charles curiously. “You sound like you have a lot of experience with this.”</p><p>Charles looks away. “I don’t drink. But I’ve been around plenty of people who do.”</p><p>He can feel Steve’s gaze on him.</p><p>“You—don’t drink?”</p><p>“No,” Charles says firmly, getting up to pour himself more coffee. “Look, I don’t judge or anything. I don’t mind other people drinking. I just don’t do it myself.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Charles pauses, feeling his shoulders get stiff. With a sigh, he forces himself to relax, and turns around, leaning against the counter.</p><p>“My father died when I was ten. His car was hit by a drunk driver. My mother started drinking right after. She basically ruined her liver in under five years and died of cirrhosis. I dealt with that experience by following her example and ended up in the hospital having my stomach pumped. It sort of… lost its appeal after that.”</p><p>It wasn’t one time, it was three. And the third time, Tony brought Raven to the hospital with them. Charles never drank again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly. “About your family.”</p><p>Charles shrugs. “It was a long time ago. It’s not… look, it’s not a big deal. Me not drinking, I mean. It’s just—well, it is what it is. Maybe I’ll change my mind in a few years. Learn moderation.” His lips quirk. “Would be nice, I guess.”</p><p>The way Steve is watching him is unnerving.</p><p>Charles smiles at him. “Not what you expected?”</p><p>Steve colors slightly. “I guess most people don’t know that about you. You’re always, uh… partying with Tony Stark, and he’s…” He trails off.</p><p>Charles chuckles. “Yes, I know. Tony is actually surprisingly great about providing non-alcoholic options. He’s… he won’t let you see it, but he really cares. In fact, he’d sooner die than let anyone see it, but you’ve got to look at what he does for people when he doesn’t think they’re watching. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever known.”</p><p>“Sounds like you’re really close.”</p><p>“He’s my best friend.” Charles grins fondly. “Along, that is, with Emma, my other best friend. She’s—”</p><p>His phone cuts in, blaring Taylor Swift loudly from its speakers, making Charles's spine tense automatically.</p><p>“I’m sorry, please excuse me,” he blurts out, digging it out of his pocket quickly. “Raven? Woah, slow down, love. What’s wrong?”</p><p>Fuck private schools and their cliques of mean girls, he thinks viciously, as Raven is sobbing on the other end. They’re too young for this. How are they not too bloody young for this?</p><p>“Raven, Raven, listen to me, it’s going to be all right. Hold on, they did <i>what</i>? Where was Kurt when all of this was happening? Is he there, can you put him on the phone? No? No, of course, he isn’t, what was I thinking. Is Mrs. Edwards there? Put her—actually, you know what, just stay put, I’ll drive out to you. Raven? Raven. Try to calm down, please. I’ll be there in an hour and a half and we’ll sort it all out, okay? Trust me, darling, it’s going to be all right. Just sit tight, and I’ll be right there. I’ll bring your favorite ice cream, yes? Oh, you want cookie dough instead? Of course, I can, Raven, don’t be silly. Just stay put, and I’ll be right there. Love you.”</p><p>He disconnects the call, mind abuzz, and only then remembers he has a guest.</p><p>“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”</p><p>“What’s happened?” Steve asks, concerned, as he finishes clearing off the dishes. “Is everything all right?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Charles grimaces, and massages his temples. “My sister had a nasty experience at a party last night. She’s twelve,” he explains, seeing Steve’s alarmed look. “So it was a kids party, but dammit, kids these days are bloody monsters. Sorry, just. Maybe I should just unleash Emma on them.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you had a sister.”</p><p>“I do,” Charles says, picking up his wallet and stuffing it into his back pocket. “My mother adopted her shortly after my father died. Heaven knows why, since she didn’t care about much back then. And my stepfather never really cared one way or another about either of us, which was fine when I was there, but after I left for college, it’s a whole other story. I’m twenty-one now, and I’m trying to get custody of Raven, but my stepfather is fighting me for… shall we say, business reasons. It’s taking a lot longer than I hoped. I’m sorry, I really have to go. You can actually stay and—”</p><p>“No, no.” Steve shakes his head. “You’ve done enough for me, thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”</p><p>Charles smiles at him, touched. “No, it’s okay. But thank you. And seriously, take your time,” he adds, walking quickly toward the door, picking up his jacket on the way. “The door will lock by itself when you leave. Drink more coffee, have more toast. Catch you later!”</p><p>--</p><p>When he comes back home that night, closer to three in the morning and absolutely exhausted, he finds an empty apartment, a spotless kitchen, and a note on the counter.</p><p>
  <i>Charles</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Thank you again for last night. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, day or night.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Steve</i>
</p><p>Bellow, is Steve’s phone number.</p><p>Charles stares at the note and smiles, but he’s too tired to really think about what it means.</p><p>--</p><p>He’s operating on less than three hours of sleep the next day, but he does go to class. Charles doesn’t like skipping much. Tony only goes to classes where he doesn’t think the professors are idiots, which makes for about three of them, and only makes a requisite number of appearances in the rest. Emma likes to subtly terrorize both her professors and her classmates, so her attendance is generally high. </p><p>Charles, on the other hand, simply likes academia, and if the lecture is boring, he can quietly read ahead or, even better, evaluate the interaction between the professor and the students, observe the good and the bad parts, think about what he would have done differently. He’s never told Tony or Emma that, hasn’t even acknowledged it much to himself, but he begins to think that this is something he might like to do one day, and the fantasy is appealing.</p><p>Today, though, his entire concentration is devoted to not falling asleep and keeping his eyes open. When the class—and it’s a double period, of course, just his luck—finally lets out, Charles feels like he could possibly sell his soul for a nap.</p><p>This might explain why, as he steps into the busy gallery outside, it takes him a few moments to notice Steve standing slightly out of the way leaning against the wall, a giant paper cup in his hands. Charles blinks, then begins walking, toward the cup mostly, drawn to it like a slip of iron to a magnet. Steve hands it to him before he even says anything, and Charles moans loudly at the first sip.</p><p>“Oh, my God, <i>thank you</i>,” he breathes out, having inhaled half of it in one go.</p><p>Steve smiles at him. “I figured you’d be in pretty late last night.”</p><p>“Bless you.” Charles nods, becoming more alert by the moment. “I should have just slept in. I have four hours of lab right now, and if I drop anything, Wilkerson will kill me. So really, thanks.”</p><p>“No problem.” Steve ducks his head for a moment. “I’ll walk you.”</p><p>Charles tries not to show his surprise, but there’s no fighting a pleased smile as he nods.</p><p>“How’s your sister?” Steve asks as they walk out into a somewhat drizzly midmorning.</p><p>“She’s good now.” Charles smiles at the memory. “Two tubs of ice cream, two hours of swinging the bat under the guise of practicing for softball—though really, Raven just loves kicking my ass, and a long Skype session with Emma, who’s our resident expert on how to handle mean girls, since she was, of course, the meanest of them all and the absolute terror in school, and now Raven’s great. My right arm might never be the same again, though,” he chuckles and glances over at Steve appreciatively. “I wish she could play you. Then at least the odds would have been about even, and we, weak-muscled nerds, wouldn’t have to suffer.”</p><p>Steve looks at him, and it’s not exactly the elevator stare, but it’s more openly appraising than Charles has ever seen from him. He blushes slightly.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure you did fine,” Steve says with a smile. Then, to Charles's astonishment, he lays a hand on Charles's arm and slides it up and down as if to test the muscle definition. “Yes, doesn’t feel like you have anything to worry about.”</p><p>“Um.” Charles clears his throat, suddenly flustered, and what on earth is up with that? “Thanks.”</p><p>Steve drops his hand, but the silence is charged now, taut with anticipation of… something.</p><p>“Charles, I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” Steve says at last. “When you, uh… when you invited me to dinner?”</p><p>“Oh?” Charles says, startled. His heart starts beating faster, much as he tries not to show it.</p><p>“I—I would very much like that,” Steve says, and there is color rising in his cheeks also. “If you still want that.”</p><p>“I do,” Charles says, beaming at him. He cocks his head to the side in thought. “May I ask what changed your mind?”</p><p>They come to a stop, and Steve holds his eyes. “I think I made a wrong judgment call about you,” he admits with refreshing bluntness. “You see, I… that day when you came up and introduced yourself,”—he smiles a little—“it was funny to me, because, of course, I knew who you were. I told you, you were hard to miss, but the truth is, you’re <i>impossible</i> to miss. I noticed you since the first time we had class together, and I… have always been attracted to you.”</p><p>“Oh.” Charles blinks. “You were?”</p><p>“Yes. You’re so intelligent, and the way you would engage with the professor, with other students, it—I wished I could be half as quick so that I could be part of it.” He chuckles. “I always come up with perfect things to say two days after.”</p><p>Charles laughs. “Oh, I’ve been there. Believe me.”</p><p>Steve meets his eyes, his smile turning soft. “That’s really hard to believe, actually, because you—you always seem to know what to say.”</p><p>“I don’t.” Charles shakes his head, looks away. “Trust me, I don’t. I’m actually somewhat notorious for always saying the worst possible thing when it matters most.”</p><p>“I haven’t noticed,” Steve says, perfectly sincere. “I always thought you were… amazing. But I also knew your reputation.”</p><p>Charles flinches. “The campus slut, yes.”</p><p>“No.” Steve shakes his head firmly and takes Charles's hand. “No, not like that. Yes, people talked about you partying with Stark, and you being very free with your, uh… with your favors.”</p><p>Despite it all, Charles can’t help an incredulous look at Steve’s choice of words.</p><p>Steve nods ruefully. “I know, I know, I talk like a Jane Austen novel. I’ve been told. But I really don’t see why we must always be so crass with our language, it’s—”</p><p>“Well, it helps when you look like someone out of a Jane Austen novel, too,” Charles says, laughing softly. “But go on. My reputation?”</p><p>“I don’t mind…” Steve cringes, visibly struggling. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you’re—”</p><p>“Easy,” Charles takes pity on him. “It’s okay, you can say it. It’s true. I’ve slept with more people than I can remember. Even I don’t think it’s healthy, but it is what it is.”</p><p>Steve nods. “Yes, that—that’s what people do in college; I get it. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. But—<i>I’m</i> not like that. I wish I was sometimes, but I’m not. So when you asked me, I knew I couldn’t be someone you forget the next morning. It would hurt too much, because—because I like you too much.”</p><p>“Oh.” Charles stares, suddenly breathless.</p><p>“Yes.” Steve squeezes his hand for a moment. “I didn’t think you’d want anything more serious, and I didn’t want to get involved if there wasn’t even a chance of that.”</p><p>“I see.” Charles swallows. “And now?”</p><p>“And now I think that I might have read you wrong. And that I should not have assumed anything the way everyone else does.”</p><p>Charles looks away, can’t take staring in the face of this earnestness a second longer. He feels like the worst kind of fraud, the lowest of the low, but he can’t resist the temptation. One date, he thinks. One date—just to see what it feels like. He’ll come clean after that.</p><p>“Charles?”</p><p>Charles stretches his lips in a smile, lifts his head. “How about dinner tomorrow? Round seven? I’ll text you the details.”</p><p>Steve’s answering smile is so obviously relieved and so openly hopeful that it pierces through Charles's heart like a blade.</p><p>“It’s a date.”</p><p>--</p><p>As if to taunt him, it goes incredibly well. Charles picks a quiet, unassuming Italian restaurant, more friends-and-family style than overtly romantic. Steve shows up wearing a button-down and a jacket, which makes Charles swoon a little bit. He jokes with the waitress to disguise it, and Steve watches him with a smile, and then teases him for being a flirt.</p><p>They talk, and it’s easy—so easy. Charles never realized it could be this easy. Steve asks more about his sister, and Charles never tires of talking about Raven. Steve tells him, in turn, how he was by himself since he turned eighteen, and how he has a grandmother in Ohio, but he rarely gets to see her anymore. He puts his glasses on when he shows Charles the pictures, and Charles has to control the urge to jump him right there.</p><p>Steve is majoring in history and admits, almost shyly, that he had always wanted to teach it in high school. Charles can just see it, dozens of impressionable teens tripping over each other to be in his class.</p><p>Charles talks about his father’s company, and how Kurt has control of it until Charles turns twenty-five, and what his plans are for its restructuring. He wants to focus on research, and give out scholarships to gifted kids, and work closely with non-profits, which was something his father had always had as a goal, but never managed to achieve.</p><p>The last time Charles had spoken to anyone about it, it was Erik, and Erik had scoffed and said that rich people should own that they’re rich and stop trying to buy themselves a clear conscience. Charles braces himself for a variation on the theme, but Steve listens attentively, asks questions about the company’s research profile, and then, before Charles knows it, they are discussing the list of non-profits that would probably benefit the most and what shape the cooperation could take. Charles jots down some ideas on a napkin, which makes Steve laugh. Charles feels high.</p><p>When they step out of the restaurant, Steve takes his hand, tangling their fingers, and Charles feels giddy, which, all things considered, is absurd, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t think his feet are touching the pavement.</p><p>They stop eventually in front of Charles's building, and Steve smiles at him.</p><p>“I really enjoyed myself tonight,” he says softly.</p><p>“Me too,” Charles admits, slightly breathless. “Thank you for changing your mind.”</p><p>Steve shakes his head. “I was an idiot,” he says, stepping closer, and cups Charles's face gently with one hand. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”</p><p>It’s completely ridiculous that Charles should be nervous or awkward at that moment—he hadn’t even felt that way when he had his first kiss, years ago, but for the first time in his life he suddenly gets what it’s like for other people, because he’s certainly feeling it right now. His hands jerk upward, unsure, his breath catches, and his head begins to spin, and all of that—before Steve’s lips even touch his.</p><p>There’s a sense of sweet vertigo when they do, and Charles lets out a tiny soundless moan as the tension breaks. Steve catches it, presses in firmer, and it turns out that he might be humble and even hesitant with his words, but not at all with his actions. When they do finally break apart, Charles has to grab at Steve’s shoulders to center himself. They grin at each other.</p><p>Charles wants it more than anything, but he knows not to break the moment with an offer that would go too far and come too soon. He forces himself to step back and doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes linger on his lips or the way his hands are reluctant to let Charles go.</p><p>“Would you like to go out again?” he asks.</p><p>Steve smiles at him. “Very much. Though, I think it’s my turn to ask, isn’t it? I have something to do tomorrow night, but maybe we could meet up for lunch?”</p><p>“How’s one o’clock?”</p><p>Steve leans in and steals another quick kiss. “Perfect.”</p><p>--</p><p>When he’s alone in his apartment, the smile fades slowly from his face as reality sets in. It was a perfect evening, but Charles doesn’t do perfect evenings. Charles does hard, and fast, and dirty, and he’s comfortable with that, because at least then he isn’t lying to anyone. Steve said he was fine with Charles being who he was, but is he really? Can he be?</p><p>Abruptly, Charles remembers a night some months ago when he was still with Victor. Charles was late, and Victor was drunk. The moment Charles walked through the door of Victor’s tiny, roach-infested apartment, he was slammed hard against the wall face-first, Victor breathing heavily in his ear, demanding to know where he was and who he was with. He didn’t believe Charles, he never did. He didn’t even listen, tugging Charles's pants down instead and smacking his ass hard a few times before fucking him right there, hard and painful. He didn’t stop, not when Charles begged him to, because it hurt, and not when Victor’s kid brother came out of his room, alarmed by the noise.</p><p>The boy was what, fourteen? Fifteen? Charles remembers how his eyes went wide as saucers, and how Victor growled at him to stay and watch so that he’d know what to do with dumb bitches who thought they were better than everyone else. And Charles had simply stood there, humiliated, exposed, <i>fucked</i>, and took it because he didn’t want it to hurt even worse and because a part of him agreed with Victor.</p><p>He never told Tony or Emma. He never told anyone. Not about how Victor had essentially forced him and how Charles hadn’t resisted. Not about how, when Victor was done, he whirled Charles around and told him to jerk himself off, and Charles did. Of his own free will, he did, stripped himself off even as Victor and his kid brother watched, and came so hard he nearly passed out.</p><p>Can he even kiss Steve with the same lips? Can he keep on selling him the illusion that Charles is merely promiscuous and not completely rotten?</p><p>With a sigh, Charles pours himself a glass of water. His hand shakes slightly as he drinks it slowly, cold liquid soothing his inner flames.</p><p>He tried telling Erik. Not in detail, and not very clearly, like he couldn’t decide whether to turn it into a joke or not.</p><p>
  <i>‘Everybody has a sob story, Charles,’ Erik had said. ‘Even rich white boys.’</i>
</p><p>He was right, of course. Charles never tried telling anyone again.</p><p>He sets the glass on the counter and drifts toward the window, staring out into the dark street unseeingly.</p><p>Tomorrow, he will tell Steve. Not about Victor or any of the others. God, no. But about the dare, about how Charles has approached him under false pretenses, how he had essentially tried to use Steve as some sort of therapy dog to guide Charles out of whatever mess he’d turned his life into. It will hurt. Of course, it will. But pain is easier to manage when what hurts is the truth and not the lie. He can do it. He must. He owes Steve that much.</p><p>Charles doesn’t really sleep that night, only drifts, as his subconscious drags him through a seemingly endless stream of dark imagery. He wakes up exhausted and chickens out.</p><p>He calls Tony and Emma.</p><p>--</p><p>In retrospect, Charles should have seen it coming. He gets to the café on campus where he’s supposed to meet Steve a little early, too nervous to wait. But before he can even go in, he sees Tony and Emma hovering near the entrance, waiting. Charles frowns, because, much as he loves them, he really doesn’t need them here right now.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he asks, as he walks over.</p><p>“Gee, I don’t know, Charles. Sunbathing?” Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m not usually fully compos-mentis at four in the morning, so I just wanted to make sure that I got it right and that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.”</p><p>Charles purses his lips. “I’m not changing my mind, Tony. He deserves to know, and I’m telling him.”</p><p>“Now, see, that’s what I don’t get. We dared you to go after the guy, who you’ve apparently been crushing on this whole time—and thanks for telling us, by the way, and you did, and it turns out, shocker, he’s really into you as well. So explain to me, for the love of my sanity, why exactly are you so intent on telling him the one thing that could put an end to it before it started?”</p><p>“Because I don’t want our relationship to be built on a lie. It never works.”</p><p>“Uh, excuse me, it works all the time. Do you remember my parents? Yours?”</p><p>“Yeah, and look how brilliantly it worked out for them,” Charles sneers.</p><p>“So you’d rather lose the first good thing that has happened to you in a really long time, for the sake of—what exactly? Buffing up your moral fiber?”</p><p>“Tony…” Charles shakes his head. “You know, sometimes I think we’ve been together for so long, the three of us, in our own bubble… It’s like we’ve forgotten what it’s even like to interact with people in a normal way. Our ‘normal’ is so messed, we don’t even see it.” He bites his lip in frustration. “Like you. You wanted to cheer me up after a bad breakup—and the thing you suggest is for me to go and seduce someone on a dare? And then me, who’s been crushing on the guy since forever, and instead of asking him out, I <i>go along</i> with it? And Emma—Emma, you’re studying <i>psychology</i>, for God’s sake, and you watch us do it, and it doesn’t ring a single alarm bell for you? Seriously, the two of you, you don’t see how we’re barely even acting human anymore?”</p><p>“You have a point, but you’re being overdramatic as usual, Charles,” Emma says, looking unaffected. Then again, hurricanes and tsunami waves don’t affect her much. “I hear what you’re saying, but I see Tony’s point, too. You lucked out with Steve, and I think we all know that, if you tell him, he’ll dump you like hot coal. After everything you’ve been through last year alone, don’t you want to cut yourself some slack? Be happy for once?”</p><p>“Twelve stitches.” Tony glowers at him. “And that’s not to mention all that other stuff that, yes, I know about, don’t flinch. I have your full medical file, who do you take me for?”</p><p>Charles shakes his head, speechless for a few moments. At long last, he sighs, and rolls his shoulders, feeling like he’s tired, so tired, and has been like that for so long he can’t remember a different time.</p><p>“I understand,” he says slowly, “that you care about me very much, and I’m grateful. I am. You only want what’s best for me, but you just can’t see that lying isn’t it. I’m telling Steve, because he deserves it, and because—because I like him. I really, really like him. Hell,” he huffs out a rueful laugh, “I’m pretty sure I’m an inch away from being in love with him. Maybe less than an inch. He’s… he’s amazing. He’s the best person, apart from you two and Raven, that I have ever met. And if he wants nothing to do with me because I tried to get him to sleep with me, like he was some prize to be had, instead of treating him like a human being, well then, I deserve it.”</p><p>It takes him a moment to realize that both Emma and Tony have gone utterly still.</p><p>“What?” Charles looks from one to the other, and then it hits him. </p><p>For a brief, scary moment, he can’t even move, but he does turn around eventually. Steve’s eyes meet his and stay there.</p><p>“Steve…”</p><p>Steve’s shoulders move in an abortive shrug. “I was early.”</p><p>Charles closes his eyes. “How long—”</p><p>“Long enough.” Steve steps closer, looking at Charles, then Emma and Tony, and then back at Charles again. “Is that true? You… tried to—seduce me?”</p><p>Charles nods, forcing himself to look up. “Yes.”</p><p>“On a dare?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“All those times I ran into you. I even nearly walked in on you at the—the <i>gym</i>? That was a setup, too?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Steve laughs, incredulous and unhappy. “And I—I felt so bad about misjudging you the other day. Wow.”</p><p>Charles flinches. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, no, you don’t…” Steve shakes his head, looks around their little circle. “So they dared you, and you just… That’s… wow. Just uh, wow. The three of you, well. You deserve each other.” He turns to go. “Goodbye, Charles.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Charles repeats, barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Steve pauses, turns to look at him. “Maybe you are. I want to believe that you are. But I can’t. I can’t, and that’s—that’s the problem. I’m not sophisticated enough for your mind games. And I don’t want to be. Goodbye, Charles. And good luck.”</p><p>Charles watches him go, though he can’t really see much.</p><p>“Well,” Tony’s voice breaks the silence. “That went well, right?”</p><p>Without thinking, Charles whirls in place and punches him in the face.</p><p>--</p><p>Charles knows he won’t be alone tonight even before he stumbles into his apartment to find Emma and Tony lounging on the plush rug in his living room, a tea set between them. Tony looks up when he enters, and Charles winces at the sight of his black eye. His knuckles throb in sympathetic pain.</p><p>For a few moments, the three of them simply stare at each other. then, Charles shakes his head.</p><p>“I’m going to take a shower.”</p><p>He takes a long time under the spray. He has absolutely no desire to see Emma and Tony right now, and knows that the feeling is entirely mutual, but they are here and he won’t kick them out. They have been each other’s checks and balances for so long, they have it down to an art form now. No matter how mad they might be at one another, they would never leave each other alone on a night like this. There might be a lot of angry silences, though.</p><p>He comes out of the shower at long last and gets dressed in a pair of old pajama pants and a sweatshirt. He’s sleepy, but he knows himself better than to try and actually sleep, so instead he pads quietly into the living room, snags a cushion off the couch, and plops down between his two friends.</p><p>Emma pours him some tea into a tiny cup, something herbal, and smelling rather strange, but Charles takes it without argument. He and Tony had learned a long time ago not to argue with Emma about anything remotely pertaining to food.</p><p>He listens idly for a while as Tony and Emma talk about one thing or other, nothing important, a conversation for the sake of occupying attention and filling the silence. Charles sips his tea.</p><p>“How’s the eye?” he asks Tony at some point.</p><p>Tony blinks, looks at him. “I’d say you hit like a girl, but I don’t want to be punched twice in one day, and Emma hits harder than you.”</p><p>Charles's lips quirk. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Tony rolls his eyes. “I’ll live.” After a beat, he asks, “Are you all right?”</p><p>Charles hums in thought. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “Yeah, I think I am. I’m upset about Steve, obviously, but maybe that was a wake-up call I needed.” He lifts himself up on his elbows, the cushion tucked under his chest. “I got a call from my lawyer today. He said chances are good that the next hearing will tip the judge in my favor.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Tony looks excited, and even Emma sits up straighter. “They’ll give you Raven?”</p><p>“He said there’s a really good chance.” Charles can’t help a smile.</p><p>“Oh, Charles, that’s great!” Emma leans over and kisses the top of his head. “Congratulations.”</p><p>“It hasn’t happened yet.” He shakes his head, but he feels giddy inside just thinking about it. “But that’s exactly why I need to get my act together. What just happened… I can’t pull stunts like that if I have Raven to look after. And I can’t”—he shudders—“get in with another Victor. Or another Erik, for that matter. I know I’m never going to be normal by sane people’s standards, but I can—I <i>must</i> do better than this.”</p><p>Tony hums thoughtfully. “I get it. For what it’s worth, you’re still not dating anyone we haven’t vetted from now on, but we’ll be looking out for more than ‘require he not be an asshole.’”</p><p>Charles snorts. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to take a break from dating or sleeping with strangers or whatever. I’ll have an anchor now. And even if they don’t give me Raven, I think I’m done with that scene. At least until I figure out what I really am, without the sob stories and the bullshit.”</p><p>“Mature,” Tony drawls. “Turning my stomach.”</p><p>Charles swats at him.</p><p>“Well,” Tony says, “in related news, I’m not asking Pepper out. No, no, just hear me out. Pepper is great. I think we all know that I think Pepper is great. But she’s too much like, well…”</p><p>“Steve?” Charles asks, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s okay, you can say his name. I won’t crumble to pieces or anything.”</p><p>“Well, yeah.” Tony clears his throat. “And I figured, so I ask her out, then what? Imagine I do manage to get that one date with her, and I’m on my best behavior. And on the second date. And then I can’t keep it up anymore, because let’s face it, I can only be good for so long and there’d better be some seriously fat pinata at the end of it. And I don’t want her to look at me like I’m the biggest disappointment she’s ever met.”</p><p>There’s a beat of silence, and then Emma frowns.</p><p>“Do you know what I’m sick and tired of hearing from the two of you? This endless stream of you putting yourselves down. Charles, honestly, so you’re more than averagely attractive and you like sex. So what? That’s not a crime; it doesn’t make you the devil. Fucking <i>own</i> it already and stop pandering to narrow-minded losers. And Tony, yeah, so you’re not the most socially conventional person out there. Guess what—that’s not a crime, either. You are what you are, either change it or own it, and in any case, stop whining about it. Ask out whomever you want to ask out. If they can’t handle you, they’ll tell you. Jesus Christ, you two. It’s like running a daycare.”</p><p>Charles catches Tony’s eye, partly amused, partly chastised. Tony grimaces at him sympathetically.</p><p>“So what are you owning up to?” Tony asks.</p><p>Emma straightens up, her expression a little distant, but determined. “I’m telling my father I’m not going to business school. I loved my brother, too, but he can’t mold me into another Christian. I’m going to get a doctorate in psychology and work with women. If he wants to disown me over that, let him.”</p><p>Tony whistles. “Well then. My trust fund is your trust fund, if you need it.”</p><p>“Ditto.” Charles nods.</p><p>Emma grins, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You won’t have much of a trust fund left after you pay your legal fees, sugar.”</p><p>“Well, in that case.” Charles smirks. “I hear I’m rather good at sex and should own up to it. So what do you think? A high-paying escort?”</p><p>Emma laughs and tackles him, as Tony rolls out of the way.</p><p>“Hey, watch it!” he shouts, scrambling back and grinning.</p><p>The doorbell chimes, just as Emma comes up on top, pinning Charles down.</p><p>“You ordered something?” she asks, one elegant eyebrow lifted.</p><p>“No.” Charles shakes his head.</p><p>“I’ll get it,” Tony says, rolling onto his feet. “You two stay as you are, I want a picture.”</p><p>Emma sticks her tongue out after him. Charles rolls his eyes, though his heart is beginning to beat in an odd rhythm. He doesn’t understand why, until Tony comes back in, Steve trailing hesitantly after him.</p><p>Charles sits up abruptly, nearly dislodging Emma, who squeaks.</p><p>“Steve. Um. Hi.”</p><p>“I’m interrupting,” Steve says, taking it all in. “I should have called.”</p><p>He makes a move as if to leave, but Tony blocks his way.</p><p>“No, no. No interruption,” he says with a completely unsubtle emphasis. “Emma and I were just leaving, weren’t we, hon?”</p><p>He extends a hand toward Emma, who graciously accepts, peering at Steve through slightly narrowed eyes the entire time. Steve swallows.</p><p>“Call us if you need anything, Charles,” Emma says, breaking the staring contest for a moment to kiss Charles's cheek.</p><p>“We’ll let ourselves out,” Tony tells him, tugging her out.</p><p>In a moment, Charles hears the front door shut. He gets up to his feet, feeling suddenly extremely awkward.</p><p>“Um.” He clears his throat. “Would you like a drink or—”</p><p>“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Thank you. Look, Charles, I… I wanted to apologize.”</p><p>Charles blinks. “I’m sorry—what?”</p><p>Steve makes an abortive what-can-you-do gesture with his hands. “What you did was extremely underhanded, true, but… Well, if anything, it was more stupid than harmful. And I might know something about that. I used to have a best friend, too.” A sad smile flashes across his face. “And, while he was the most amazing and loyal friend anyone could possibly have, he also got me into plenty of trouble. I don’t mean that it was his fault,” Steve says hastily, catching Charles's expression. “I walked into all of it of my own free will. I’m just saying, I know how, when you’re each other’s feedback loop, things can get messy.”</p><p>“Messy,” Charles repeats.</p><p>Steve actually grins. “I got arrested a couple of times. Did some time in juvie, in fact, for… I’m pretty sure they settled on vandalism. There was a protest that we, uh… took a bit far. The records were sealed when I turned eighteen, but my point is—I know. And you essentially tried an adult equivalent of Bucky locking me in a closet with Rita Ellis for seven minutes in heaven, or whatever it was called.”</p><p>Charles digests this for a while. If anyone else had told him that <i>Steve Rogers</i> had been arrested, Charles never would have believed them, but as it is.</p><p>“What happened?” he asks. “To your best friend?”</p><p>Steve’s smile fades. “He got into more trouble than I. Ran away from home eventually. I haven’t heard from him since. I tried to find him, but… no luck.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Charles says. “That sucks.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Steve rubs the back of his neck. “It really does. Charles… Why’d you do it? Go along with Tony’s dare? If you—you said you really liked me. Why didn’t you just tell me that?”</p><p>Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “Because I didn’t think I’d stand a chance with you. I’m—well, you see now what I’m like. I knew it, too. I thought sleeping with you once was the best I could hope for.”</p><p>Steve mulls this over. Softer, he asks: “And what about the other thing? Did you mean it?”</p><p>Charles swallows. “I meant everything I said.”</p><p>The way Steve is looking at him sends tremors down Charles's spine.</p><p>“Good,” Steve says, looking entirely too serious. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m an inch away from being in love with you, too.”</p><p>Charles's mouth falls open as he stares. “You…”</p><p>“Less than an inch, if I’m honest.”</p><p>Steve steps closer. Charles hardly dares breathe as Steve lifts his hand and gently pushes a strand of hair back off Charles's forehead.</p><p>“Did your seduction plan include actual seduction?” Steve murmurs, eyes dropping down to Charles's lips.</p><p>“Yes,” Charles exhales shakily. “Would you like to stay for breakfast?”</p><p>Steve’s hand curls around the back of his head, drawing him in. “I would love to.”</p><p>--</p><p>That night is filled with revelations that Charles had never suspected were possible. It’s not as if he’d spent much thought on things like that to begin with, but if he had, he never would have foreseen this.</p><p>He learns that Steve doesn’t always kiss like the upstanding gentleman he is. That he’s crazy strong Charles knew, but that he’s not at all shy about fully using that strength when he notices how much Charles enjoys being manhandled is a surprise, and it is delightful. Charles thought that he would have to coax Steve into letting go, breaking through the barriers of discipline and reserve, but Steve is way ahead of him, intent with a single-minded focus on driving Charles insane with sensations.</p><p>He learns that Steve is well-proportioned everywhere, that he can go on and on like a freight train for what feels like ages, until Charles can’t even make noise anymore, only gasp. Then, Steve slows down to a snail’s pace and decides that now is the best time to leisurely explore, pulling Charles away from the edge, until he’s incoherent from being stuck between pleasure and agony. When he feels like he’s ready to burst out of his skin and begins to whine and buckle, Steve subdues the rebellion easily, setting his own rhythm, taking control, and even as Charles topples into a mind-blowing orgasm, a tiny part of his brain that is still functioning thinks, how? How is he so lucky? How did he manage to get everything he didn’t even know he wanted in one amazing, absolutely incredible package?</p><p>He wakes up in the morning feeling not just pleasantly but <i>deliciously</i> sore and stretches in bed like a lazy cat. He is alone, but he can hear the sound of the shower, and grins, ducking back under the covers. Steve isn’t the kind of person who’d just leave. Charles's whole body vibrates, purring, and he can’t remember the last time he felt this way.</p><p>When he wakes up again, Steve is leaning against the doorframe, wearing his own jeans and what looks to be the biggest t-shirt he could find in Charles's closet. It looks obscene.</p><p>“Morning,” Charles says, slightly slurring, as he tries to make his way at least halfway from under the covers. He can’t help a grin that is probably entirely too besotted.</p><p>Steve is watching him with an odd expression.</p><p>“What?” Charles asks.</p><p>Steve seems to shake himself out of it. “Nothing.” He gives Charles a small, private smile. “Just thinking maybe I should pick up painting.”</p><p>Charles blinks. “Oh.” He can feel the blush spill down over his body, Steve’s eyes following it to the point where the sheets hide it from view. “Um.”</p><p>“Also,” Steve says, visibly fighting to reinstate control of his gaze, “your friend Tony is in the kitchen making breakfast.”</p><p>“<i>What?</i>” Charles sits bolt upright, the sense of pleasant languidness gone in an instant. “No. Oh, please, no—”</p><p>“Don’t panic, Charles, it’s only French toast!” Tony yells from the kitchen, followed immediately by the sound of something heavy falling with a splash. “Oh, crap.”</p><p>Steve’s eyebrows lift as he watches Charles hastily fish his pajama pants from the floor.</p><p>“Is this a regular occurrence?”</p><p>Charles grimaces. “Yes. Well, not the cooking part. Tony is a bit destructive in the kitchen. He’s even worse than me, I don’t know how.” He winces at the distant noise of something breaking. “It’s like a science experiment, I swear.”</p><p>“I meant,” Steve says, chivalrously keeping his eyes above Charles's collarbones, which is honestly so sweet, Charles nearly swoons, “does he always check on you in the morning?”</p><p>“Ah.” Charles sits down on the bed, half-dressed. “Well, he, uh… The thing is, my last few relationships were… uh, not great. So Tony will probably be a bit of a nuisance until he knows I’m safe.”</p><p>Steve’s expression darkens at the implication, his concern and anger almost tangible. Charles rushes forward.</p><p>“Or—or until he gets a new project. Then it’ll be our turn to constantly check on him and make sure he eats, and sleeps, and generally takes care of himself.”</p><p>Steve’s eyes tell him clearly that the conversation is tabled not forgotten, but he focuses instead on: “Our turn?”</p><p>“Um.” Charles blushes. It’s really unfair to ambush him with this first thing in the morning, he thinks. “I meant Emma and me, but… Well, if… If you stick around long enough, you should probably expect being drafted at some point.”</p><p>He bites his lip and falls silent, heart beating maddeningly loud in his chest. One night of fantastic sex doesn’t mean Steve is going to stay. It’s a tall order for anyone to commit to being with Charles, considering not only that he’s <i>Charles</i>, but also that he comes as a part of a package deal, which also includes two of the most unstable and possibly terrifying individuals on the planet.</p><p>He’s almost afraid to look at Steve, but when he does, he sees a look of determination and that small private smile again.</p><p>“Well then,” Steve says. “I guess I’d better go see what he’s up to in there.”</p><p>How, Charles thinks again, a little shell-shocked. How is he this lucky?</p><p>His toast isn’t even burned.</p><p>Tony leans over to him across the table and says in a terrible stage-whisper: “The jury’s still out, but so far I vote we keep this one.”</p><p>Charles glances at Steve, who takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs. “If it helps, I agree.”</p><p>Tony’s eyes narrow in suspicion immediately, and Charles laughs.</p><p>“Yes,” he says, still grinning and reaching over to take Steve’s hand, “I think he’ll fit right in.”</p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings (coninued): mentioned: past dub con/non-con, voyeurism, underage, derrogatory language, homophobia, physical abuse.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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